Morgan
by GPhnx
Summary: When reoccurring nightmares of his mysterious past begin to plague his thoughts and dreams, Morgan finds he must confront his deepest, darkest desire. But, the Gods have a cruel twist to impose upon him in his attempt at a self redemption to come to terms with his own worst enemy; himself.
1. Chapter 1

Morgan was perched upon a small rocky mound just outside of Windhelm. The twin moons wrapped themselves within the blanket of thick clouds scattered across the sky. His golden eyes were only visible as he crouched in the natural shadows. Numerous cuts and scrapes littered his body, blood seeping out of them and running down his body. Flicking his eyes about, surveying the forest, he heaved a heavy sigh and mixed in a growl of disapproval at what he saw; a search party. Already. Stretching his sore fingers and sheathing a bloody blade into its case at his hip, Morgan sank within the forest and made a mental path to the far west; his only refuge and also his worst fear.

-xXx-

Slipping into Riften was the easy part; nothing could have been simpler. For an hour or two, Morgan observed the pattern of shift changes between the guards who stood outside the city gate. When he was sure the sentries were about to change posts, Morgan covered himself with his pitch black cloak and glided between the two men and right into the city. In the quickness of it all, Morgan was already standing in the center of the circular market place before the two guards even had an inkling of what was about to happen.

A blood curdling shriek filled the cool, crisp, Skyrim air. It was cut short by the sound of a blade clearing its sheathe and chewing through flesh. Morgan gripped the back of Grelod the Kind. Her face was frozen in both fear and shock of her current situation. Morgan's eyes glared unblinkingly into the elderly woman's eyes, watching the life drain out of them. His other hand was at her waist, gripping the hilt of his dagger. He slowly twisted the blade and allowed the warm, thick blood to run over his hand.

In the next instant, Morgan found himself letting Grelod the Kind fall to the floor as he ran towards the open window he'd entered the small orphanage with. Gripping the dagger and pulling his cloak around him, Morgan dived through the open window into the back alley way of the Riften orphanage. Breaking his dive with a roll, the murderer didn't bother leaping to his feet and making a mad dash to the city walls; he looked for the nearest shadow and began crawling towards it as quickly as he could.

-xXx-

A/N: I have returned. And with a new story it would seem. For sure, I am going to take my time with this one and work with it in every possible way to avoid ruining it like my past stories. I sincerely hope you enjoyed this small beginning to a vast adventure on the way. If you would kindly leave a review it would be appreciated. And stay tuned until next time.


	2. Chapter 2

Morgan had been traversing his Western path for the past three days. The path _had _involved using a horse, or perhaps a carriage to speed up his journey. However, in the few hours he had begun his long trek, the Riften guard had sent many messengers out to carry the news of an assassin on the run. A Riften nag was nothing to look at, but she would be a strong mare to be sure. Morgan was suddenly aware of how tired he was and how hungry he felt. He honestly could not remember his last meal.

_I wish I would have just _stolen _a damned horse ._Morgan thought to his self cynically. But that would be a humorous sight, to be honest. Morgan chuckled at the thought of a Khajiit perched on the back of one of the many strong Nordic horses that were prevalent around the land of Skyrim. Finally taking initiative to rest for the night, Morgan stopped at a nearby lake. For the first time in a while, years maybe, he seen his own reflection in the water. Not to say he hadn't seen his own reflection before, but the first time he actually looked back into the natural mirror.

Golden eyes peered looked back into his eyes. His dark orange fur was matted and tangled with blood, and perhaps hadn't seen the light of cleanliness in months. The braids in his mane were starting to fray, and that irritated him the most. Holding up a paw, he flexed his fingers and retracted his claws multiple times. Morgan was lithe and thin, but not delicate. Over the years, he'd pierced golden loops through his ears, but the reason was long forgotten on his self. With a quick jab into the lake, Morgan withdrew from the water a nice, thick, ripe salmon. Splitting his face, his sharp-toothed grin was short livid as he tore into the live salmon's stomach.

No longer did he sit on his own haunches; for now he sat on his rear, his tail swaying back and forth, occasionally whipping with excitement. Morgan let out a growl of satisfaction, as it had been the first time in days he had eaten. Tossing the remains of the fish, consisting of the head and the tail bridged by the spine, Morgan allowed his self to lay back and enjoy the relaxed feeling spreading through his body. Oh it did feel good to finally let his heavy eyelids close. And with that, Morgan drifted off into a much needed sleep.

-xXx-

A minute passed, and the mass curled up at the shore of the lake didn't stir. Then ten minutes passed. And then an hour passed. And then the shadow perched on a low hanging branch decided it was as good a time as ever to move. Dropping from the branch and creeping towards the sleeping Khajiit with an exaggerated emphasis on watching where it stepped, the shadow soon stood before him. Withdrawing a dagger from its sheath clipped securely to the breast of the armor, careful with the paralyzing poison coating the blade, the shadow knelt down beside the Khajiit.

"Hail Sithis."


End file.
